


The deal

by Anya_chan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sassy Crowley, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7128794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anya_chan/pseuds/Anya_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley comes accross a demon deal which makes him choke on his tea.  He has to work in secret to repair his idiotic employe's error.<br/>Meanwhile Castiel has to deal with the aftermath of Lucifer taking over his vessel, with the Winchesters trying to get back to normal hunter life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time in more than 10 years since I've written anything, so please bear with me ! Destiel gives me feels, so here is this little story which I hope you'll enjoy. This is season 11 finale non compliant

For the 10th time today, Crowley thought he was really surrounded by idiotic morons, and this time, he actually meant it. Not that the nine other times didn't matter, but this one could definitely be the last straw. This was the moment that made him consider actually making a deal with himself so he wouldn't have to cope with such feckless demons anymore.  
This was a thought to actually hold on to, he told himself as he reviewed the contracts his minions had humans signed for today. It was late and it was always one of the last task the king of Hell did before calling it a day, as he prefered the quietness of his private quarters to examine the contracts and eventually find any loophole or flaw in them. It was usually quite a boring and tedious duty, as things asked by people in exchange for their souls were often the same : wealth, health, love, or revenge, typical petty human things and with the time, crossroad demons learned to have an already filled-in contract for almost each situation. There were always some tiny variations to each case of course, but all in all, the risk of losing the soul because the contract wasn't 100% solid never happened. Not on Crowley's watch anyway, he liked repeating to himself. 

This wasn't the presence of any flaw that got Crowley's attention on this particular contract, but more the terms of the agreement itself that made him lift an eyebrow. After the debacle with Lucifer and the Darkness, the workforce down here ended up severely diminished and Crowley had to hastily appoint new employees to several jobs, including contracts signing. This particular one was made by one of his newest recruit, as his name didn't ring any bell in the king's mind. Not that it mattered in any way since there were strong chances than this lad would lose his job and his head first thing tomorrow morning. 

"Seriously ?! People ?" said Crowley out loud, the frown on his face visibly deepening. 

He didn't know if he had to laugh, puke or facepalm right now, and settled for pinching the bridge of his nose, sensing the imminence of a migraine. Was he finally becoming too old for the job ? Had he fought so hard to get his throne back from Lucifer's grip to be rewarded by this ?  
Crowley's eyes scanned once again the allegedly offending file. Sure, to his merit his new recruit had secured a 10 years contract with a young soul, the girl being in her twenties, and everyone knew that the younger the soul was reaped, the more value it had. But even then, her age wasn't an excuse for overlooking the wish she wanted granted by the too eager to comply demon. It was a simple enough request, although Crowley found himself in a cold sweat thinking about the invisible forces already at work to make it real.

There, written in blood letters in a hasty but determined way, sit the short sentence "Make the Supernatural Destiel ship happen".


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has to find a way to prevent the poor girl's wish from happening, meanwhile we get a glimpse at the boys' life in the bunker after Chuck and Amara's departure.

Morning came and the migraine was still here, so was the contract. It made Crowley feel even more prickly as he sitted through the usual routine meetings of assigning appointments, tasks and performance objectives for the day. He was glowering at the imbecilic demon that was the instigator of a mess he wasn't even aware of, the fool currently taking some notes in a notebook, in a false diligent attitude that Crowley was sure was nothing but defiance directed only to his person.  
The thing is, after a long and tiresome internal debate, the king of Hell had concluded that it probably wouldn't be wise to smite the useless cockroach now, thus making the problem public. No, Crowley thought, he should deal with this matter on his own, as the demon world didn't need yet another motive to question his relationship with the Winchester brothers. This would need to be dealt with as discreetly and promptly as possible, but then Crowley has always been many things but inefficient.

-

It was one of those lazy mornings, when even the sun didn't seem eager to get up. The sky was foggy and charged with electricity. The air was crisp and cold and time seemed to stand still, the forces around them hesitating on which direction the day would take. Sam was the first person of the bunker to be up as always, because the times when Dean stayed up all night didn't count. He was browsing through the latest news, looking for something unusual enough to make a case. He moved aside his now empty cereal bowl to reach for his glass of freshly mixed fruits and vegetables juice - he still marvels at the fact that things have actually been quiet enough lately for him to enjoy a healthy and homemade breakfast, Dean still teasing him about that regularly "Dude why do you try to eat your green portion of the day at once ?!" - when he heard the noise of slippers being dragged accross the kitchen floor. He turned around, glass still in hand.

"'Morning", he smiled at Dean.

His brother gathered the belt of his robe and tied it closed, eyes still not fully opened, and walked toward the coffee machine.

"M'ning..." he yawned, then his body suddenly tensed, all remains of sleep gone. "Dude, no more coffee, again ?!"

Sam shrugged. "It was your turn to make the refills yesterday. I don't do a double check of what you buy."

Dean maked a strangled noise that is between desperation and anger. "But coffee, man, how could I have missed it ?"

Sam was deeply amused by the scene offered before him, his big brother wearing sweatpants, an old tshirt and his robes, completely at loss for his morning coffee fix. So much for one of the deadliest hunter on earth. He took a sip of his juice then smirked.

"If I remember correctly, you came back yesterday from the gas station as if it was Christmas." He impersonated his brother and talked excitedly. "PIES !!! And it was three for the price of two ! I got three pies ! It's a PIE PARTYY !!"

So now Dean was positively sulking and Sam loved every bit of it. It felt like such a long time ago since they could interact without any bit of tension, or without the imminence of another apocalypse happening soon. It felt good, and almost normal. Almost.

"Hello Dean."

Normal was never part of the Winchesters' vocabulary anyway. Both brothers jumped and turned around to see Castiel standing in the doorway, carrying a brown paper bag.

"Hello Sam."

The angel might have lost his wings, but he was a sneaky little shit with ninja abilities and was still scaring both of them to death each time he appeared unanounced, looking utterly unfazed by their fright. That or he was enjoying it all too much and had the best poker face ever, thought Sam.

The angel handed Dean the paper bag and went to sit at the table. "I noticed there was no coffee left this morning so I went out and bought some."

Dean left out a muffled cry and hurriedly opened the bag, almost putting his whole face into it to inhale the scent.

"Oh my god, man, you're a life savior."

"And you, sir, are a drug addict," stated Sam, laughing.

"Hey nobody's perfect, so they say," replied Dean, but his focus was already into pouring delicately the right amount of coffee into the machine.

"I didn't know coffee was the only thing keeping you away from perfection," chuckled Sam, casting an amused and knowing smile to Castiel accross the table.

Castiel lazily smiled back, fingers crossed over his stomach, his back leaning against the chair in a completely relaxed posture. He cherished those moments of simple domestic life, which radiated of so much warmth, like a hearth in a home. There has never been time for such trivialities when the Darkness was looming around, when Castiel let Lucifer be in charge of his vessel, and even before, back when he was fighting to regain control of it over Rowena's spell. Yes it has been a long time indeed, since any of them wasn't under some kind of curse, sickness or whatever other excuse the Universe always came up with to pull them apart. It was precious time and memories the angel wanted to carve forever into his heart, and cling onto them as much as possible. He knew that moments like this would never happen again, even to an immortal being like him. Becoming human, gaining a soul, had teached him the frailty of everything. Not only of his mortal condition, which depended on so many things to survive, and in such, teaching him the fragility of human existence, but also the fugacity of time. He had realised that each moment he lived, he would never experience things exactly the same way twice ; each memory, each sensation, cristallized into fragments of intense and raw feelings of what it meant to be truly alive. It was overwhelming. It was painful. But it was also foremost eye-opening, as even after all these million of years of silently watching over his Father's creation, he hadn't realised where their true beauty really laid.  
Living, breathing, experiencing, feeling, everything was truly a work of art. He used to be fascinated by human souls, but when he gained one, the mighty soldier of the Lord found himself truly humbled. They had so little and yet fought so hard, fell so many times, felt so intensely and still held so much hope within themselves, the angel could do nothing but admire their relentlessness and lust for life. He really thought he could learn to live like one of them. Become one of them, those humans he rebelled for, gave up so much for, those people he fell for. Those kind of days, where it was only the three of them, could almost make him believe he actually belonged with them.  
But he knew better than to lull himself into some false hopes now and he had learned the hard way not to long for what he could never have.

"Oh my god Cas, this is good stuff. Where did you get it ?!" Dean's voice dragged Castiel out of his reverie. "This is clearly not the coffee they have at the gas station, and I think I've tried all their brands," said Dean, taking small sips of his coffee and looking like he enjoyed each one a little more than the previous.

Castiel smiled again a little private and shy smile. "I may not be able to taste food in the strict meaning, but my angelic senses allow me to distinguish which products have the most balanced molecular sequences."

"Oh ok now don't be too smug about it," teased Dean.

"Although that is quite an unexpected and super cool application of your angel powers," added Sam, who, being the nerd he was, looked like he had many questions in mind already.

"So yes this is not some coffee from the gas station, as I didn't find any that was satisfactory enough. In the end I went to the little grocery up north, you know the one next to the burrito restaurant."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. The younger brother shrugged.

"But that's almost a thirty miles round trip Cas," started Dean.

"And I have a car, and the weather this morning was very nice. It was a pleasant trip", Castiel cut him off. He then stretched out slowly and repressed a yawn. Dean's look on him sharpened while the angel stood up. "Well, let me know if you ever need me for a case or anything, I'll be reading in my room."

"Ok sure," said Sam, eyes already back on his computer. "Thanks again for the coffee!"

"Yeah, thanks man," added Dean automatically, concerned eyes still on his friend as he left the room.

He went to sit opposite to Sam, coffee mug still in both hands, but its heat didn't seem to reach him anymore. He inadvertently shivered and fidgeted, the warmth and joy of the moment now gone. It still made him uncomfortable to see his friend like this. Angels didn't have basic human needs, like sleep or food. And yet since their battle with Amara, since Castiel got full control of his vessel back, he had always seemed tired and aloof. It was as if he had left a part of him during the fight, something crucial, that kept him from totally recovering from this ordeal.  
Dean wondered if it was only physical, since his vessel often looked in dire need of rest, or if the angel was hiding something else from them. It was not the first time his friend abruptly switched his moods from openly friendly to distant and guarded.

"Give him time, he will be alright", said Sam softly, eyes still on the computer.

Dean hummed distractedly, sipping his coffee. He glanced at his brother who looked back at him briefly, a knowing look in his eyes. Sometimes his brother was damn too perceptive. But the younger Winchester knew what it was like to have Lucifer undo him, burning through his soul until he lost the ability to tell apart reality from delusion. So of course he'd seen the look in Castiel's eyes and immediately knew what it was about. Dean sighed, his mug now empty.

"Anything interesting in the news ?" he asked his brother, his professsional demeanour back.

"There's this guy, 57, salesman in Omaha, he won the lottery one month ago, bought a new house, new car, and then died in his sleep 3 days ago."

"So what, guy's ran out of luck ?" Dean chuckled.

"He died the day after he changed his will, leaving everything to his second wife." added Sam, raising an eyebrow, eyes still scanning the article.

"So you're thinking witchcraft ?"

"Well that is too much of a coincidence, don't you think ?"

"Yup," Dean got out of the chair and stretched lazily. "Witches these days, they forget to be subtle. Omaha you said ? That's what, roughly 210 miles drive ?" Sam nodded. "Ok let me shower and pack and we'll leave in an hour."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was enjoyable. Was it ? *insert insecurities here* This chapter is much longer and hasn't been reviewed yet, as english isn't my first language, there should be some mistakes perharps. I wrote the first lines of this chapter before the season finale and had to make some modifications to my first planned plot afterwards. Also, hum yeah, I'm a bitter Cas!girl at heart and it shows.


End file.
